


Hope Is For The Dreamers, Not For Us

by Pink_and_Velvet



Series: Writers Month: August 2019 [19]
Category: Salton Sea (2002)
Genre: Canon nods, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Crime, F/M, Hope, Letting Down, Loss of hope, upset
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-08 04:36:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20312593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: He no longer knew the definition for the word: Hope.Writersmonth Day 21 Prompt:Hope





	Hope Is For The Dreamers, Not For Us

_1\. verb_  
_If you hope that something is true, or if you hope for something, you want it to be true or to happen, and you usually believe that it is possible or likely. _

* * *

He no longer knew the definition for the word: Hope.

How could he? With the haunting of letting Liz down, letting her die under the hand of such criminals. He wasn’t even there when it happened. They had gotten lost and had passed stopped by a creepy looking shack, built with wood and wood only, the very foundations scared them both. It was the only place in sight, the only light on at the time. He’d asked to use their bathroom and she had followed. She waited outside, taking in the scene, when it happened. He hadn’t a clue what. The men burst into the room, waving around pistols, screaming. The gun shots, the blaze, her falling to her knees. All happened within an instant. He was grazed and too fell to the floor. The shots died down as he crawled to pry open the door. He saw her, her hand on the curtain. Her head up against the wall, the blood she left behind. Her tears ran free as she ground out her final words. She tried to smile but her eyes were wide, her body shutting down and grinding to a halt. She had a trembling hand that he held tight; she cried and cried. He pulled her forward and she died then and there, the blood from the back of her head intermingling with his own trailing down his arm.

How could he ever remember the word: Hope?

When he sat and played his trumpet? When he immersed himself in the flames? When he let his soul die with her and took it upon himself to find her killers?

Maybe then he had hoped and only then but now, the love of his life was long gone and what did he have to hope for?


End file.
